


The Way A Hero Looks: A Blind Izuku AU

by eagle_feather_2014



Category: Boku no Hero Academia, My Hero Academia, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Blind AU, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-04 06:09:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20466290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eagle_feather_2014/pseuds/eagle_feather_2014
Summary: After an incident in his youth, Izuku Midoryia is left blinded by a villain, having to re-establish his life without his sight. He gives up on being a hero, a choice that doesn't sit well with his childhood friend, Bakugou Katsuki, who pushes him back onto the track to being a hero, but the path is immeasurably longer than everyone else's. When obstacle after obstacle try to kick him down, will society stop him all together from becoming a hero? After all, what good is a hero without a quirk or a sense of sight?





	The Way A Hero Looks: A Blind Izuku AU

_”We are looking at a rather disturbing scene down below here, Tendo. The villain has escaped from Rashet Prison and has taken to the streets on a rampage. The villain has been identified as thirty-two year old Evan Junto, the villain that calls himself Aciraptor due to his reptilian appearance and quirk ‘Jurassic.’ Our sources say that he is capable of spitting salvia made of acid for up to forty yards! This is one baddie that we are being advised to caution all citizens to stay as far away from as possible. Pro-hero All Might is on the scene with Kamui Woods and Ingenium. If you are heading through the Tokinoa District, we advise you to make a detour or delay your trip until the scene has been cleared. This villain is labelled a hazard to civilian onlookers, and police are insisting that civilians stay away from this fight for their own safety.”_  
  
That was the report circulating every electronic device the news could tap into. Thousands of watchers, hundreds of texts, and dozens of online posts stemmed from the broadcast, yet not a single one struck me as a warning. I, only a sixth grader of 15 days, rushed headlong towards the battle scene, my hero analysis notebook clutched in my hands as its spine creaked and peeled from use. My shoes beat the pavement as I ducked around innocent civilians mulling around on the side walk, all on their way to whatever they listed next on their unending lineup of responsibilities. I panted and gasped for air as I detoured toward the Tokinoa District, a few blocks off my path to school. My eyes lit up as I watched a reptilian creature smash into the third story window of an old corporate building, tail thrashing and eyes glaring before that fanged mouth stretched wide, unhinging around flexible mandibles, disks of brightly colored skin flaring away from the thick neck of hardened scales. Acid lurched from the depths of that flesh tearing jaw, and the heroes skirted the circumference of the liquid jet that gnawed a gaping hole into the cement sidewalk.  
  
A bellowing laugh caught the wind and rode it like a wild stallion to my ears. My heart halted before crawling into my throat as my eyes lit up, smile splitting my face. I whipped open my journal, uncaring for the dying binding that I had abused with such acts as this, and began pushing my way past suits and bags, emerging like a butterfly from a cocoon as I passed the civilian blockade and got a police arm to the chest, shoving me back from the scene. The chatter of the crowd and the shouted warning from the police fell deaf on my ears as my eyes tracked the motion of the three figures working in tandem to defeat the screeching, threatening beast that called itself a villain. Amateur. Didn’t he know he was up against three of the best heroes of all time? How was he, a simpering escaped convict, scheming to inflict any damage to these gods among men? I was eager to figure out what had this villain smirking so confidently whilst he stared down certain defeat. My bet was arrogance, but a small part of me began to concoct possible schemes and plans that he may enact to get an upper hand in this dispute.  
  
My hand raced across the pages of my notebook as I absorbed the scene, processing and analyzing it to death, my pen dutifully scratching my thoughts into the fibers of my journal. Observations, theories, and ideas my hand scrawled onto the pages of my tattered notebook. I watched this villain closely for a moment before ducking my head down to sketch him out onto the pages to use for later analysis. I was so sure of my safety with the heroes fighting this monster that I let my mind focus on recalling the image and transferring it onto paper. So strong was my focus and so sure my confidence in the heroes I looked up to that I didn’t notice the villain being hurled towards the crowd I stood in. People scattered in my peripherals, my head jerking up in response, only to look up and meet eyes with reptilian slits full of rage and evil. Those eyes narrowed, jaw stretched wide, and sickly green acid bubbled up his throat before launching with accurate aim right at me as I stood, frozen in place with my heart racing the way I wish my legs would. I watched the world warp and dye through the transparently green tinted slime as it surged towards me. Time froze, and I felt all bravery seep from my body, gluing me to the spot, muscles tense and trembling. I knew what that substance fired at me would do when it reached me, and I was helpless to stop it.  
  
It splattered across my face, searing and biting. I stumbled back with a shriek of agony as the fluid consumed my cornea, stripping away all protective coating of my eyes, biting into the color of my iris. I staggered, journal abandoned in favor of clutching at the wound, holding my face with shaking, gasping breaths. Tears tried to well but were devoured by the acid as quickly as they formed. The world was black and green with flashes of red as spears of pain stabbed my gut and head, my heart wrenching as I strained my lungs to breathe through it all. My ears rang deafeningly loud, my head heavy with pain but light with the vestiges of unconsciousness tugging at my mind. I was laid out on the pavement, a wounded creature, helpless underneath the villain as the crowd scattered and the heroes faltered. My sobbing, weeping cries of pain stripped my throat raw, my cries failing to rise above the chaos. I could hear nothing over the ringing blaring in my ears, my body feeling no sensation other than the devastation to my eyes.  
  
I laid there, whimpering in such wholly consuming pain that you couldn’t hear it if you leaned over me. I contorted into a ball and dreaded the faintness I felt embracing me. I was terrorized in a suspended state of existence, my pain warring with my body’s capacity for it. I vaguely knew that the battle raged on around me, the heroes incited to a new level of commitment by my involvement in the fray. Time felt outside my comprehension as I writhed and struggled through the sensations strangling me, intensifying in strength as I fought for my life against the sensations of deathly caresses luring me towards oblivion. I floated listlessly in the darkness as my eyes ignited with reverence for the destruction inflicted upon them.  
  
At this point, or so I’m told, I went into shock. I could remember and feel nothing. The battle was won by the heroes, and an uneasy hush fell over the world as the new chopper focused in on me in the aftermath. My broken, lifeless body strewn on the cement as a casualty of the battle. The world murmured back to life as they looked at me, a child wearing an All Might backpack lay the victim of a battle engaged by that exact hero. It was a labelled a tragedy, and debate sparked over whether heroes should be responsible for damages caused in their endeavors to subdue villainy. It took fifteen minutes for the ambulance to arrive, and in those fifteen minutes, the world stood still. No one knew if the child that had rushed to see his hero was dead or alive. The heroes stood to the sides, deflecting media and stealing uneasy glances at my body. None of them could swallow the possibility that I had been killed so young by their inability to take down a villain quickly. Videos circulated of All Might staggering away from the scene, Ingenium sitting down beside me, and Kamui Woods fencing off the crowd, barking at the media to stop interrogating them like they meant for it to happen.  
  
Eventually the ambulance showed up, declared me still alive, and rushed me to an emergency room where I was in surgery for less than an hour before they bandaged me up and sent me to ICU. I took six days to wake up. Gifts, letters of well wishes, and flowers littered my hospital room. I saw none of it, even after my bandaging was removed. They declared me blinded. The word hit the news and the hero world was thrown into chaos as anti-hero activists used my name as rallying call to defend their cause against the persistence of pro-heroes.  
  
_Innocent Child Izuku Midoryia, Age 11, Life Ruined By His Hero!_  
_Middle School Child Blinded In Hero Fight: A Sign?_  
_Local Child Nearly Lost Life Because of Negligence of Heroes!_  
  
The headlines tore at the fabric of society. My wounding was used by both sides as evidence for or against the continuation of heroes. All the while, I was a prisoner in the suffocating darkness, residing in the hospital’s most attentive facility. I was doted upon, read letters, fed prepared meals, visited by family and friends, and spared from the television’s abuse of my favorite people. My life had been uprooted and, with it, so too had the world’s teetering balance.


End file.
